First time lucky?
by Theneversky
Summary: A story where Q and Bond switch places for a little while, and Bond doesn't like it one bit. Q assumes the role of an agent for a new mission but not all goes to plan... K to be safe. Fluff fic. Also, the genres might be a little...out. i really have no idea what to classify it.
1. Chapter 1

Well, here goes nothing! This is my first multiple chapter 00Q fic (I have only previously done one-shots) so it may be a little dry at the beginning. Just tell me if you want the pace to change and I will happily oblige. I hope you like it and happy reading.

P.S. More 00Q scenes in the chapters to come. The first chapter is mainly to just…set things up :P

Q's fingers skimmed quickly over the key board as he hacked his way into the building's security and cyber network.

"Left! I sad left you idiot!" Q demanded angrily into the line of communication between him and 007. His outburst caught the attention of some of the younger members of Q-branch. They exchanged whispers and sly looks but Q was too busy keeping Bond from dying to care. Bond had taken it upon himself to turn right instead of left landing him in an open court yard as a sitting duck. Q groaned and tapped at his keyboard frantically. He electronically locked the fire escape doors to stop anyone else from entering the court yard. It also left one path for Bond, the path Q wanted him to take. After ten tense minutes of gun fire, knife fights and hand to hand combat, Bond was bleeding, bruised but alive with the case. He let Q guide him out of the building without any further incidents. From there, Bond jumped into a black BMW and sped down the road. Q frantically tried to pick him up on CCTV but soon gave up. He was travelling to fast. He then switched to tracking him via satellite and the chip that was installed in the agent's ear piece. Q tried his best to direct him out of the city but without a visual, he had no idea where the traffic was.

"007 report, how bad are your injuries"

"Not fatal" Came Bond's dry reply from the other end of the communication line. "Are you worried for me Q?" Q could _feel_ Bond's arrogant smile from his spot at MI-6. He rolled his eyes even though Bond couldn't see and pondered for a bit. The men they were dealing with weren't stupid, they would have back-ups of everything and decoy's. The back-ups didn't matter, MI-6 only wanted to know when and where the exchange was happening. But if it was a decoy and it gave wrong information, Bond could be walking into a trap. However, the tricky part was they had no way of knowing if the information was fake or not. Q suddenly sprang to life, dashing over to his laptop and pulling up the CCTV of the building where the case was stored. He pulled up video, audio and infrared (to see how many were left as backup for the exchange). Bond could direct himself back to his apartment. Q watched as Sebastian Hamilton gathered his men (around 15 were still alive in the courtyard and 20 more scattered through the building) and began to clap. Applaud, was a better word and what he said next mad Q's blood run cold. However fuzzy the image, it couldn't hide his cocky stance as he pulled out a few pieces of paper from a case a man had just delivered to him. He said

"Good work men. They've taken the decoy. We leave for Los Angeles tonight."

Q shut his eyes. Rage. It was rage that bubbled through him at this point. In this raid, they'd lost an agent. A very good one at that. They _needed _that information to stop the exchange. Sure, they could keep surveillance on them and watch to where they went. But that would require a spontaneous attack. Lives were lost when that happened. They needed that information to _plan_, to be ready in advance, to scope out their location. Look for fast exits, good hiding spots, blind spots in security. Q gripped the edge of his work desk tightly. His knuckles turning white, his arms trembling with rage. He was angry at himself. He had _failed! _That didn't happen in Q's family. He squeezed his eyes tightly together.

"Damn it!" He smashed his hand down on his desk. The entirety of Q-branch silenced. To them, it was a success, a victory. They thought that info was theirs and from there, the exchange would be stopped, intercepted. Q crossed one arm over his chest and pinched the bridge of his nose with the other hand.

"Q? Q what the bloody hell?" It was Bond. Q had left communications open. He took a deep breath and said it.

"Decoy. It's a decoy." Bond didn't reply straight away. Just like Q could feel him smile, he could now feel him scowl in annoyance and frustration. Before Bond could reply Q cut in with "I need to inform M. Can you get yourself back to your apartment ok?"

"Affirmative" Was the only reply he got. Q instructed one of his interns to monitor 007 and to keep communication up in case something came up. After that, he strode to M's office. Eve knew something was up even before he said a word. Q wasn't an agent; he didn't have that cool calm mask most agents wore. So he couldn't help showing his nervous, worried expression mixing with anger and self. Once inside Q's office, he relayed the entire thing from when Bond had arrived and Hamilton corp. M sat very still once Q was done. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally commented.

"This was supposed to be a simple, quick in and out task, am I correct?"

"You are sir"

"And what, Bond barely escapes and we lose Matthews all for some dud information?" Q sat stock still, his eyes focusing on a point behind M's head. He was getting enough shit from himself, he didn't need it from M too. M rose from his chair then, walked straight past Q and out the door. Once he was gone, Q let out a breath of relief. The whole operation had made his heart beat fast and hard, adrenaline course through his veins. It was only now that it was beginning to die down. After waiting a good two minutes, just to make sure he didn't accidentally see M again, he headed back down to Q branch and set up 24/7 monitoring on Hamilton Corporation and on Sebastian's private estate. The exchange _had _to be stopped, it wasn't an option. And the only thing Q could think of was probably the one thing Q dreaded the most.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, tears beginning to make an appearance. He wanted to cry for Matthews. One of the best they had. He wasn't a double-oh yet, but the look on his face when he was told he was going to be working with one. It was pure awe and excitement. The mission had been classified as a low-moderate danger level so no-one expected what had happened. And, as always, Q felt he was to blame. Maybe he should have equipped him with better gear, or maybe he should have said turn left rather than right. In the end though, it was the unfortunate stoke of bad luck that had made that bullet hit home. And yet Q still felt every bit as guilty.

Q could hear Eve's shoes clipping across the floor of Q branch so he quickly scrubbed at his eyes, pushed back the tears that had yet to fall and got straight back to work. Once Eve had reached him, he was completely composed and greeted her with a professional nod.

"Eve. I'm guessing you heard…before?" Eve looked grim. She was probably feeling the same way as Q about Matthews.

"Every word. Got a new plan yet?" Q was grateful that she hadn't asked more questions about what happened. That was probably why Q like eve so much. When something had happened, she didn't dwell on it. She accepted it and looked for a way to fix it. So Q told her his plan.

"I'm going personally to pay Sebastian a visit." She opened her mouth to argue but Q cut her off and continued, "After the attack, he would have figured out that his computers and security systems were weak or faulty. So, he'll need a computer technician. I can't just get bond in there and hack the system from here, they know his face. I have to do it because this will require doing a three day hack in about eight hours." Eve was looking at him with narrowed eyes. Q could see she wasn't sold on the idea but that didn't matter, he didn't need Eve's consent. "Eve, you _know _I'm the only one who can do this."

"You have to promise not to die Q. I can't lose two friends to the same man." Q flashed a quick grin at her and said

"Don't worry, I've got 007. What could possibly go wrong if I've got him to protect me?" The look Eve gave him was an unimpressed one to say the least. The statement even left Q wondering about whether he would return seated happily (about as happy as you can be with a fear of flying) in a jet or return in a cardboard box in the cargo hold. Only time would tell.


	2. Chapter 2

Q hated flying. He hated it with a passion. He didn't just hate it, in fact, he _feared _it. One of the worst things was that he wasn't able to use any electronic devices on the airplane. So it was like a breath of fresh air and a huge weight had been lifted off his chest when he stepped onto sold ground again. The first thing he did was pull out his hand held computer and check emails. It calmed him down to use his technology once he was out of a plane. There were, of course, no new emails but that didn't bother him. He was yet to inform 007 that he was in Russia so he sent a quick email to Bond before heading to baggage pickup. His mistake came when he stopped for some lunch in the airport. He should have just hopped straight into a cab and headed for 007's hotel. Instead he had a small lunch at a café and sat there, watching the security cameras and guards as they monitored the airport. Big mistake. Just as he was getting ready to leave, a rough hand grabbed his arm and jerked him in the opposite direction.

"Bond what are you-?"

"You're getting on the first plane back to Britain" Q just stared at him. A simple hello would have been nice. He tried helplessly to get his arm free of Bond's iron grip but it was no use. Double-oh agents were just too damn stubborn. Q took a deep breath and planting his feet firmly on the floor, he stopped. Bond whipped around, his eyes blazing as he stared Q down.

"That's not going to happen Bond," Q inwardly wrestled with himself in order to make his voice a little steadier before continuing, "I'm afraid there really is no other way to obtain that information before the exchange." Bond gave him a long hard glare before replying. The proximity of their faces causing Q's heart to beat a little faster.

"And what are you going to do Q? This is no place for a quartermaster as young and-" Bond grazed his eyes over Q's lanky build "-…fragile as you." Q raised his brow at Bonds last remark but didn't argue with him. "You're a computer genius, a quartermaster, not a field agent."

As Q's brow lowered his lip curled up in a smirk. Narrowing his eyes at 007, he pulled something out of his pocket and thrust it into Bond's chest. "Exactly."

The word had barely slipped of Q's lips before he pushed past Bond. Heading toward the taxi zone bag in hand, Bond caught up with him quickly but didn't try to manhandle him to the departure gates.

"An IT expert?" Bond said as he held the fake ID up for Q to see. He quickly snatched it back and shoved it deep into his coat pocket before answering.

"Well, a wise man once told me I was a computer genius, a quartermaster, not a field agent. So I decided to stick to my talents." Although his eyes were trained on the freshly arriving taxi's, he could _feel _Bond give a small smile in reply to his comment.

…

Later that night, Bond busied himself with checking and cleaning his various guns and gadgets. Meanwhile, Q was rather busy himself with double checking the plan for Tomorrow. If all went to plan, he was to go to Hamilton's home personally and appear as a technician for security cameras and different locks. He was also posing as an IT expert that was supposed to give his computer state of the art security and multiple new fire walls and pass locked sections. One of their undercover operatives had advised Hamilton to get a technician in to look at his security arrangements after the attack Bond had launched. Even though the information received was a dud, they still managed to evade the security cameras and get through the locked doors.

Hamilton had then called a highly regarded security and IT company. MI-6 had intercepted the call and dealt told Hamilton that Q would be arriving Friday the 16th of May. Tomorrow. Q trembled in his seat. In theory, Q was completely confident that he would be able to do this but now that only 15 hours from now Q would be knocking on the door of a very dangerous man, well, Q had more than one doubt. He shifted uncomfortably in front of his computer. He was being silly. He'd taken and passed all the required tests for a person to work as a quartermaster at MI-6 and he'd recently brushed up his aim with a handgun only to find he was an excellent shot. He wouldn't need all that though, after all, the mission required him to go in, install some simple security cameras, give Hamilton the run down on how to use them, and while he was 'adding high quality firewalls' he would take a sneaky peek at the information on Hamilton's computer, the information that they failed to get the other day. Running his hands through his hair was his usual way of calming his nerves. However, no amount of that could calm the thunderstorm of nerves raging inside him. The tricky part was getting Hamilton out of the room while Q called up the information and sent a copy to MI-6. He would probably follow Q around everywhere and watch his every move. He would either have to find a way to get the information whilst he was in the room or get him out of the room.

With a jolt, Q brought himself back to reality. Bond had stopped fiddling with…whatever he was fiddling with and was watching him intently. His blue eyes piercing into his own.

"What is it?" Bond held his eyes for a heartbeat longer before replying.

"Nothing, just noting your nerves. I can practically _feel _them." He said with a smirk. Q scowled at him and focused his attention back on his computer screen. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bond getting up from the edge of the bed he was sitting on and come around the table at which Q sat.

"What on earth are yo-" Q's computer screen snapped shut. "Hey! Some of us are actually working Bond." Q said with a note of irritation. Bond only snickered before walking past Q.

_Was he just being a pest or…?_

It turned out he did indeed have a motive for interrupting Q. However, Q would have preferred to not have found out. With a flourish, Bond produced two handguns. One Q had made personally for him and the other was a regular model. Q eyed them with suspicion before widening his eyes as Bond threw one in his direction. As gracefully as a new born child, he caught it before it dropped to the ground and blew his foot off. Little did he know, the safety was one. Q huffed out a sigh of frustration as realised what Bond wanted.

"No."

"Yes. You need to be properly prepared Q."

"Oh come on! It's not like they're going to pull a gun on a technician!" Bond just rolled his eyes in response before heading to the door. It only took Q a few seconds to tuck the gun into the back of his pants, pull the cardigan over it and follow. Whether he liked it or not, he needed to be prepared for all situations. Even if that meant a gun fight- Which Q desperately hoped to avoid. Field work was Bond's area, not his, but this situation was different. If he could have directed Bond over the phone-or another agent for that matter- he would have, but that would have taken a number of hours and they just didn't have that much time. Another reason was that Q knew exactly what he was looking for, as opposed to the others working in Q-branch, he was updated fully on the mission and that meant the exact information MI-6 wanted and where to look for it. He was trained in field work-though he never put it to the test- and he was a pretty good liar. He also looked very innocent. No one in Q-branch was as young, weedy and innocent-looking as he was with the right training. Q gave another frustrated sigh as he followed Bond from the hotel room.

This particular hotel was owned by MI-6. It was for the agents who were posted here for long term periods. There was a level below the underground parking for the agents to use as training. The gym was a few levels above so sweaty men and women walking through the corridors didn't look completely alien. He wasn't entirely sure, but Q was 99% sure that was where they were headed. Bond was clad in track-suits and a snugly fitting T while Q was in his usual black slacks and coloured cardigan. Today it dark green with white and blue striped along the hem, cuffs and V-neck collar. Bond had positively growled at the sight of it. That had only made Q grin.

As they walked along the corridors, Q a few steps behind Bond, he found his eyes drifting to the double-oh's back. He watched the way his shoulder muscles moved as he walked, he noticed the veins in his strong fore-arms stand out impressively. He shook his head, he had no right to think like that. Well, no one was going to hear his thoughts so… he shook his head and trained his eyes on the ground. It was _pointless_ to think of Bond like for many reasons. The obvious being he didn't play for that team and he was emotionally detached from everyone and everything since M died. Q classified himself as Bi and Bond as completely hetero. He had no chance. In Q's head… 0% chance with Bond flashed across his vision. With a heavy feeling beginning to form in Q's chest, they reached the lifts.

…

A low growl escaped from Bond as Q failed yet again to hit the target. Not with a bullet like Q had been expecting, but a knife. Joy. Q wiped sweat off his brow and picked up another, his last before he would have to retrieve the others from their various places around the room.

"I'm still not seeing how this is necessary." Q said as he gripped the knife just as Bond had shown him only fifteen minutes earlier. He threw it with irritation filling the action. The knife sailed by the target. From thirty feet away, it was a little hard to stick an knife in someone's chest. Q shoulders slumped as he proceeded to pick up the scattered knives.

"It's necessary, Q, because if your gun runs out of ammunition and you're attacker is still coming, you're going to thank the heavens above for that wonderful person who taught you how to throw a knife." Q rolled his eyes as he plucked the last knife from the floor. As he straightened up, he saw Bond had moved to Q's throwing spot. Great, another demonstration. The baggy shirt he wore was about two sizes too big for him and made him sweat twice as much. He huffed out a breath full of fatigue and impatience. Bond pressed his lips together tightly and held out his hand. Q handed him a knife and stood back, waiting for him to throw it and hit the target either directly in the head or heart. Only this time, he didn't. Instead, he said "Come here." He waved him over with the blade of the knife. Q hesitated for a moment before walking over to him slowly. Obviously, he wasn't moving fast enough for Bond. He grabbed him by the shoulders and positioned him in front of the target. He stood directly behind Q and placed a hand on his narrow hip, moving it so that he was now facing the target on an angle. Q focused completely on keeping his heart rate and breathing under control. Bond would pick up on it straight away. He also had to try his hardest not to lean into Bond's warm solid chest. Bond them grabbed Q's hand and placed the cool knife into his palm, closing his fingers around it the proper way. He then proceeded to move Q's feet into the correct position with his own feet. Bond's body was completely pressed against his own and the feeling seemed to sap every inch of concentration from his mind. Q silently wondered if Bond had picked up on the fact Q had a mini crush on him and was using it to get Q to throw a damn knife straight. If he was, Q didn't care, not when Bond was this close. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough against his ear. Q wanted to melt.

"Now, raise your arm back so that the knife is at your ear. Like this. Now, when you throw, extend your arm out completely and follow through after you've released. It will make sure the knife goes completely straight." Bond paused before giving a low chuckle. "Are you nervous Q." His breath against Q's skin sent shivers down his spine and caused his heart to flutter in his chest.

"You can be quite intimidating. After all, you do have a licence to kill." Q was surprised his voice came out steady. Bond moved back a couple of steps. Q felt himself sway ever so slightly without Bond's sturdy form behind him anymore. Q licked his lips, pushed all thoughts of Bond to the back of his mind and focused entirely on the target in front of him. He threw the knife, and with a satisfying _thunk_, it stuck.

"Well," Bond breathed out "It's about bloody time."

They spent another hour or so down there working on Q's knife throwing aim and shooting aim. It turned out, he wasn't as good as he thought. Well, at least not good enough in Bond's mind. By the time he returned to their room, Q's arms were aching and he was covered in sweat. Bond appeared the exact same as when they left. The least he could do would be to _appear _flustered. For Q's sake.

Just as Bond looked like he wanted to retire for the night, Q aimed a smug smile at him.

"What is it?" Bond said with a fair amount of curiousity. Q shrugged and flipped open his laptop.

"You've given me your lesson. So I think it's only fair I return the favour with one of my own." Even before Q gestured to the laptop, Bond groaned and headed to the kitchen for some water. After all, this was going to be a long night.

_**Please please please review! They always warm my heart. As I said in the description, if you want a change of pace just let me know and I will see what I can do. Also, if there is anything you would like to see in the story, don't hesitate to mention it. Chapter 3 coming soon!**_

_**(Also, questions are welcome :P )**_His mistake


	3. Chapter 3

At around 12:30 am, Q had finally managed to teach Bond how to monitor Q on Hamilton's surveillance cameras, turn communications on and off and how to shut down the entire operation if Hamilton should find out about Q. If -with big emphasis on the 'If' - that were to happen, Q would be left on his own. His mansion was heavily guarded by men with excellent military training and combat skills. Although his technical defence was down for the moment, that didn't mean his man power had been drained. Only 2 days after the attack Bond lead on his warehouse, Hamilton had regained the men he had lost and a few more. He had far too many connections with far too much money for Q's taste.

Bond was shaking his head. His eyes still focused on the computer code marching like little white ants across the screen. "I can't just do that Q. I can't just type a few things into a key board and leave you to die. Why is that even necessary to know?"

"It's necessary Bond," Q took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, "because if you don't, Hamilton may have a computer hacker of his own that could use our feed to reach MI-6's main data base. He would have to be pretty advanced to do that and I highly doubt Hamilton would have his own computer rat that advanced when he's paying me to fix his broken security for him." He locked eyes with Bond. He could see the disagreement lingering there but the agent kept his mouth shut. Q pointed to the computer screen and Bond's eyes followed. "A little box will appear in the right hand corner of the screen if we are being hacked. It will flash red and give a warning code. Copy and paste this code the main box with the other code I gave you before and enter it. This will shut down the feed and the hacker will be shut down on the other end."

"You've never done that to me." Q looked at is profile, studying him closely. His eyes were fixed on the screen but he wasn't looking at it. His face was hard and his posture stiff. Q narrowed his eyes. He slowly answered.

"Yes. That's because I haven't been given the order to." Bond's eyes pierced into his. His sharp expression telling Q the lie was just a little too white for Bond to not notice. Q sighed. "Bond, it's different. I'm a quartermaster, a computer genius and I operate out of MI-6. You, 007, are a field agent. You have a license to kill and you are operating from a crappy dell computer that is incredibly easy to hack. We have entirely different circumstances." Q watched as Bond absorbed all this information. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest; his flexing muscles making Q shift in his seat. Bond just sat there for a long time studying Q. Not saying a word. Just when Q thought he wasn't going to say anything more, he spoke up.

"Anything else I need to know…quartermaster?"

The next hour and a half was spent making sure Bond understood anything and everything that was required of him for this mission. Originally, Q had planned to walk in there with Bond somewhere close by with just a radio connection between them. But this made Q feel a hell of a lot safer.

Fortunately too, Bond was a quick learner. However ignorant he may have been before, he now knew enough to safe Q's ass if he needed it. He liked to think of it as returning the favour. Q didn't have enough fingers to count the amount of times he had saved Bond skin after he'd made a reckless decision and nearly blown the entire mission. Fatigue weighed heavily on Q's shoulders, the only thing keeping him awake was nerves. He kept telling himself that this exchange needed to be stopped, for the safety of Britain and, potentially, beyond. He _had _to do this. There was simply no other way. And he'd be damned if he stood by and watched while knowing there was something he could have done. He just wished it was less bloody frightening.

…

The early wisps of dawn woke Q from his sleep. Long fingers of dawn light stroked softly at his cheek. He moaned and rolled over, curling deeper into his blankets. The heavy feeling of warm peaceful sleep still tugged at his mind. A few seconds later, his eyes flew open when he remembered. He sat up to find Bond tinkering around in the kitchen. He didn't spare him a second thought until he soundlessly slipped from his bed and retrieved his towel. 007 agents didn't tinker. With socked feet, he padded around the bed and peered at the agent. He had, in fact, stopped tinkering and was now gripping the edge of the basin with all his strength. His knuckles were white and his head bent down. Q couldn't see them, but he was pretty sure his eyes were closed.

Q's eyes widened and his mouth dropped a little when he realised. He wasn't the only one that was nervous. With a sudden severity, Q realised that he had been so self-centred, so one minded. Bond had been pushed, shoved and bullied out of his domain. He is doing something completely alien to him and yet, not one crack has appeared on his armour. He has stayed completely composed and in control. Here Q was, his nerves frayed and only worry about _his _nerves when there was someone else suffering from the same thing, but silently. He wanted to slap himself for being for childish.

Q was about to turn away to give Bond some privacy when his heart filled with a foreign weight. An emotion so heavy it threatened to drag him to the floor. He felt something for Bond he never had before. He felt sorry for him. He had no one. No one to give him a smile and squeeze on the shoulder for re-assurance, no one to do those little things like simply be a friend. It wasn't entirely his fault. He had been moulded into the perfect killing machine. Cold, detached and aggressive.

Quickly abandoning his earlier plan, Q quietly padded up to bond. He simultaneously placed a hand on Bond's Bicep and reached for the coffee mugs above their heads. At Q's touch, Bond's head snapped up to meet his gaze. Q's heart threatened to melt at the expression he gave him. Mixed with Panic and vulnerability, his blue eyes swam with emotion. Q gave him a weak smile and pulled out a coffee cup. "Coffee?"

It took a while but eventually Bond gave a small nod in response. Q's smile became a little more confident and he widened it to show some teeth as he gave a small, fleeting squeeze on Bond's arm before removing his hand to make the coffee. He found himself missing the feel of Bond's solid arm under his hand.

By the time Q had finished making the coffee; Bond's cold mask of indifference was firmly set on his face. But Q would never forget what he saw in Bonds eyes. He would take it to his grave.

…

From his position at the window, Q could see that his car had arrived. Or rather, his van. The white van had been tattooed in bold red with the name of the IT Company Q was posing as an employee for. He sucked in a huge breath and headed for the door. A gun tucked safely and inconspicuously inside his grey tweed jacket and two knives strapped to his ankles underneath his black slacks. His earpiece working clearly in his ear and his microphone all set in his watch. He wondered what it would be like to be the one with the little voice inside his ear instead of being it. His legs felt like wood as they carried him toward the door.

_Ten steps left_

His gut felt leaden and his mouth went dry. What if he was compromised and he was left to Hamilton for dead? His closest back up was two blocks away. To Q, that felt like miles.

_Seven steps, six steps_

If something went wrong, his backup would come to his aid, but how far would they pursue him? Hamilton was not a man to meddle with, if he wanted Q, he would take him. Q knew for a fact that the only reason why Bond was pursued once he dropped off the grid was because he was far too valuable to lose. And because Q wouldn't let them _stop _pursuing.

_Five, four steps_

He desperately wanted Bond by his side. His cool calm confidence in a highly sensitive environment never failed to surprise him. As he drew ever closer to the wooden door, he wished more and more that he could replicate that composure.

_Three, two_

His breathing became rapid and his heart began to beat erratically in his chest. A thin sheen of sweat now coated his forehead as he reached his hand out for the door knob.

_One_

His breath caught in his throat as he turned the door knob. He knew he was being silly. _Way _too silly. But he couldn't help it. He was used to staying safely tucked away behind the screens of his computers, no face-to-face, gun-to-face contact required.

Sweat soaked hands slipped on the brass door knob as he turned it. The corridor beyond looked long and painful. He had a sudden admiration for Bond and his capability to do this on a daily basis. While here Q was on the verge of mental breakdown. He wanted to shake himself and snap out of it. But he couldn't. The simple fact was he was petrified. He was jerked back into reality by a rough hand on his shoulder. H whipped his head around to see Bond standing next to him. His warm hand like a solid block of reassurance.

"Q?" Bond's cold faced softened for just a moment before he said "Just promise you won't die ok? I dread to think that my next quartermaster may actually _like _me." His lip curled up slightly and his hand tightened on Q's shoulder. Maybe the 007 agent wasn't as he's initially thought.

_**REVIEW! **_

_**P.S Sorry for the late update, I was pre-ocupied with another story. I honestly don't really like this chapter that much. It's kind of just a bit…blah. So I am dreadfully sorry if you feel the same way. Because of this, I PROMISE with a cherry on top that next chapter will be better. Things are HAPPENENING in the next chapter and I am starting it right now. Thanks for reading :P**_


	4. Chapter 4

He shivered. The cool air-conditioning caused Goosebumps to snake up his arms and neck. The thin sheen of sweat that had broken out on his skin made everything ten times worse. Q's fingers skimmed briskly over the keyboard, lines of computer code marching proudly along the screen.

"_Three hours down. Only five more to go, Q." _The earpiece in his ear burst to life with Bond's rough voice coming through loud and clear.

Yes, exactly three hours ago he had walked into this room with Sebastian Hamilton leading the way. It was the main security room where all the security cameras were monitored and all the information could be accessed from. Of course, the information wasn't actually kept here, but Q was able to access it from here.

Sebastian Hamilton lounged lazily on the hard sofa directly across from the desk at which Q sat. His presence alone made him uncomfortable but when he tried to make small talk, it became boarder line unbearable. Q was paranoid that somewhere between talking about the weather and his newest "architectural project" he would slip in a sentence that Q would fail to pick up on. A sentence that, if answered a certain way, would tell Hamilton who's side Q was really on. Bond was mostly silent on the other side of his earpiece. There was nothing to say really. Still, he always felt better whenever he said something. His voice was like a solid reassuring block.

"What are you doing?" Q jerked his head up in alarm, his eyes wide. "Right now, what stage of…fixing my equipment are you up to?" Hamilton was inspecting his jacket for any stay pieced of lint. Q shook out a shaky breath. He needed to calm down.

"Right now, I'm just fixing the glitches in the two cameras positioned by the front door. The driveway and perimeter ones are done and now I am working my way inside." The lie slipped easily from Q's lips. His cameras weren't broken, they never had been. Q wasn't sloppy or messy when he did a hack job. He didn't leave mess behind. But he had given the _illusion _they were broken so that he had a reason to be here. He also had said he would include firewalls to protect his computer against further hacking. That was just to buy him more time if he needed it. Hamilton wouldn't know how long it took to build a firewall; it could be anywhere up to two days if Q wanted. Hopefully though, he wouldn't need that long.

Abruptly, Hamilton stood and flanked by two bodyguards he made his way to the door. Just as he was about to disappear through it, he turned.

"I will be back in just a moment. Pressing issues to attend to, I'm afraid." Adding nothing more, he slipped through the flimsy metal door painted with a flaking blue. That left Q alone with one heavily armed, well-trained soldier. Q got back to work. And for the next five minutes, Q felt like he was going to do it. He relaxed as much as he could in his current situation and let the endless amount of computer code swimming across his vision soothe his jittery nerves. For that blissful moment, for that brief undisturbed moment of hope, Q felt like he could do it. But of course, that was only five minutes. And when that time ended, all his hope and faith he had previously had in this mission was crushed within a moment. And that moment was when Sebastian Hamilton entered the room.

The heavy metal door swung open with a crash. Q's head jerked up to see a bodyguard enter the room followed by Hamilton; his expression, displeased to say the least.

"_Stay calm Q, If you panic, you'll be given away in a second."_

There was Bond's voice in his ear, giving him instructions and telling him how to act. Q had no idea what he meant, but he had a horrible feeling he was about to find out. Hamilton's His brow was furrowed and more than one crinkle blemished his forehead. Q's blood ran cold and the color drained from his face when he saw who came through the door next. Two more bodyguards entered the room with a man in-between them. He was wearing a neatly tailored suit made of light grey fabric. His previously white shirt was now stained red with blood, both old and recent. He was limping and clearly very weak. There was a bag over his head but Q knew who it was even before they removed it.

His face was beaten in, his eyes black and bruised. His nose gushed with blood and he was missing two teeth. And now, he was going to die. Q wanted to be sick all over the desk in front of him. But he kept it in and rose.

"Mr…Mr Hamilton. I-I-I'm not entirely sure what's going on."

"_Stay calm Q!" _The earpiece crackled for the second time.

"Don't play stupid with me boy!" His sudden outburst caused Q to jump a little in fright. Hamilton whirled around with anger in his eyes and fury in his actions. He reached over to one of the guard's hips and ripped out a standard black 9mm handgun. Q was about to raise his hands up in surrender but stopped short when he realized Hamilton wasn't aiming at him. For the first time since he entered the room, Q made eye contact with the bloodied and broken man in a once fine looking suit. His name was Agent Matthews. And he was supposed to be dead.

"Now, I know that your real name isn't _Jonathon _and I know that you don't really work for an IT company that's here to fix my broken security system because you see, there isn't anything to fix. It was never broken. Oh don't look at me like that! I'm not an idiot." Hamilton was waving the gun around Matthews's head in such a way that made Q wince every time his finger inched toward the trigger. His eyes flickered back and forth between the gun and Hamilton's face. His eyes finally settled on his face when he resumed talking. "So you have ten seconds to tell me the truth before I blow his brains out. Ten, nine…"

Q began to panic. His words all clogged together in his throat. The only thing he could get out was "Wait stop!"

"Eight, seven…"

"_Feign innocence Q. I don't think he is 100% confident." _Q wanted to scream. That was _really_ reassuring. Because the man looked about 110% confident pointing a fully loaded gun at Matthews head.

"Six, five, four…" Blood rushed through Q's ears drowning any ideas he may have been able to conjure. He managed to get words past his lips.

"Mr Hamilton please! Please don't kill that man. I don't know what you want me to tell you but my name is Jonathon Anderson, I was born in Wales and moved to London when I was three. I've _always_ had a love for computers and so I became a computer technician. Please put the gun down. Please!" Q was on the verge of tears. If Hamilton pulled the trigger on that gun Q knew his resolve would crumble. His pleading had caused a gap in Hamilton's count down. He was looking directly into Q's eyes. Q could see the decision weather to trust him being weighed up behind Hamilton's green eyes. Q gaze flickered to Matthews. He obviously believed that Q was a fantastic actor because he wore a look of slight awe on his face. Oh how wrong he was. Q looked back to Hamilton with pleading eyes. Seconds stretched into minutes and still no one spoke. The earpiece in Q's ear stayed mute. He could feel the tension in the air. It was like even the simple task of breathing became difficult. Q thought of 007 then. He thought of all the times that he shared witty and sharp comments with him over the communications line, all the times he'd been in the exact same situation and the composure he'd brought with him. But most of all he remember earlier that morning. The one time he'd seen real human emotion exposed on Bonds face. He remembered being happy. So incredibly happy that he'd gotten a small brief glimpse into the human side of the cold hard man Bond was. The amount of control Bond must have to keep a lid on such emotions like that awed Q. And it gave him something to strive for. He squared his shoulders and looked Hamilton straight in the eye. Because he knew. He knew from the second Hamilton pulled out that gun. He knew from the second Matthews walked through that door. He knew what he was going to do. Regardless of what Q said. He had made up his mind. Sebastian Hamilton's mouth curled into a cruel sick smile.

"Three…two…one…"

_**Hello again. Please please review and a huge thank you for reading this far. This was pretty fun to write so I hope you liked it. So yeah :P Chapter 5 is on it's way!**_


	5. Chapter 5

Bond held his breath. He'd witnessed everything, and now everything was going to get so much worse. Especially for Q. He felt, for the first time in his life, useless. Completely and utterly useless. Here he sat, safe and snug in a warm luxurious hotel room while Q faced death head on. He ached for Q. He'd heard the pathetic whimper as the gun shot rang through the earpiece. Q had shut his eyes. He hadn't seen the actual impact of the bullet, but he'd have to open them eventually. And the aftermath would be so much worse. 007 felt for the quartermaster, so young and completely in-experienced in this area of work. So helpless and weak. He felt for him because he could do almost nothing to save himself against Hamilton and his men. Yeah, that was the reason. Bond though he felt just a little too much for the young quartermaster. A little more than was safe. But then again, when was he ever safe?

"Q? open your eyes Q. And do what he says, exactly what he says. Or you'll find yourself like Matthews." Bond was trying to sound soothing but the brief look Q gave to the security camera told him he was being the opposite. The blurry grey and white figure of Sebastian Hamilton on the small screen began to move. He motioned for his 'personal monkeys', as Bond liked to refer to them as, to seize Q and tie a bag over his head. Not a word had been spoken. 007 moved. After grabbing a small tablet and transferring the feed video footage of all the security cameras to the tablet, he shoved in an earpiece and turned on the speaker in his watch. He wasn't just going to sit here and watch Q die. He leapt from the table. Grabbing his gun and not sparing any time to think, he shot out the door. He didn't need to stay here, MI-6 would have their own video and audio feed of Q. They had only barely let 007 be the communicator to Q in this high risk mission. The only reason was that Q had basically thrown a tantrum and insisted it be 007. Why? he hadn't the foggiest.

Once he had made it to his black Maserati, he flicked his eyes between the small tablet and the road as he weaved his way toward Hamilton's mansion.

"Q, I need you to listen to me. MI-6's back up should already be on their way in and surrounding the mansion. Just hold on. You're going to be fine." He wished Q could answer, though he knew he could not. He pushed harder on the gas and took a small comfort in the low grumble of the car's engine. Gliding smoothly and quickly through the traffic. He longed for Q to answer. To hear his voice crackle through his ear piece. It had always been that way. Q giving the orders. Q guiding him efficiently and safely to his goal. Q was the only quartermaster he wanted. He'd be damned if he let him die. He quickly devised a plan in his head. Bond gunned the engine.

…

The loud crack and painful sting of Sebastian Hamilton's hand across his cheek caused his teeth to grind into each other. He could hear the pattering of gunfire somewhere a little higher above ground. There were muffled shouts and, every now and then, an explosion that would shake the underground cellar slightly. Dirt rained down on Q's bloodied face. His back-up had arrived but they'd grossly underestimated the number of men Hamilton harboured. Hamilton's face loomed close to his.

"If you don't tell me _quartermaster, _I'll have to induce pain using something other than my own bare hands. Now tell me the passwords for your internal data bases!" Q flinched. He still didn't know how he knew he was the quartermaster working for MI-6. He didn't speak. He kept his eyes trained only on the floor. He counted the small cracks around his feet. Hamilton straightened up. Q could feel the fury radiating off of him. He closed his eyes. His hearing sharpened with the loss of his sight. He heard something metallic scrape against another metallic object. He started to shake. Gripping the arms of the chair, he tried not the think of what would happen next. But his imagination proved to be the worst torture. He conjured various images of fingers and toes laying on the ground next to him. Deep cuts and slices adorning his arms and legs. Teeth being pulled from his mouth.

A heavy sickness filled his stomach, his chest tightened and the blood from his face drained. He couldn't do this. But he _had _to. MI-6 would get him. They would. The would come. He just had to hold off until then. He'd take Bond's advice. He wasn't going to tell this piece of shit a single thing. So instead, he spat on the floor. He probably just made it ten times worse for him. All he could do now was bare it.

A scream ripped from Q's throat as a knife buried it's self in his shoulder. The entire blade was gone so the hilt jutted out grotesquely. Hot tears fell from his eyes and he screamed. It was no pain he'd ever experienced before. Pain soared through his shoulder and bile filled his throat. But he pushed it down.

"_Q! Q what's happening? Damn it Q I'm coming." _There was concern in his voice. A deep growl laced with worry. It was oddly comforting.

However, Q couldn't help the sobs. Even though everyone caused his shoulder to hurt more and more, he couldn't stop them.

"Please! Please stop! Oh God please!" Q begged. He begged and begged. He knew he sounded pitiful, but he couldn't help it. His pitiful pleas were the only words he could form. Hamilton twisted the knife.

Q screamed. He howled and cried with pain. It was like fire roared through him pushing every thought from his mind except the thought of relief. He longed for it. His chest heaved with huge gulps of air. He barley felt Hamilton move close to his ear. He almost didn't hear the words he uttered over the roaring of blood rushing through his head.

"That's not the answer I wanted. I can stop this Q. I can get you some bandages and morphine for the pain. But you have to tell me those passwords. Or else you're going to be in a lot of pain for a very long time." Hamilton sounded almost soft and caring. Q wanted to hang his head in defeat and tell every government secret he was authorised to know. He just wanted the pain to go away. He obviously didn't answer fast enough because Hamilton savagely ripped the knife from Q's body. Q grunted and sagged his head. Sweat dripped from his nose and dotted the floor with dark spots. He panted.

Hamilton roared and smashed a fist into the side of Q's head. His head exploded with pain. He felt a warm trail of blood drip to his chin from his eyebrow. Suddenly, the heavy metal door in front of Q swung open sending a bright yellow light into the room. Q looked up. Hope blooming in his chest. They'd come. He was safe. Disappointment shot through him when he saw the man standing in the doorway. He was Hamilton's head thug. A heavy feeling settled in his stomach churning with the sickness he'd felt before. The thug drawled something in a heavy accent Q couldn't place. He expected the door to be slammed, the thug sent back to the war going on upstairs and Hamilton would resume his 'interrogation'. Only, that's not what happened. Hamilton spat a reply back at the man then turned to Q.

"This'll be fun." Seeing as Q hadn't heard a word of the previous discussion, he had no idea what Hamilton meant. And then, to Q's absolute joy, Hamilton strode out of the room and shut the door. He was alone. He knew that Hamilton would have placed one or two men outside the door, but he was alone, in the room. Q sagged in the chair, his wound bleeding profusely and still hurting like crazy. After the absence of the bright light from outdoors, Q's eyes took a while to adjust to the semi-darkness again. He turned his head and saw a metal tray on a small wooden table standing on four thin legs. He assumed that on that table was the instruments Hamilton was planning on 'tying out' on Q. He shuddered at the thought.

Q knew what he had to do, he didn't like it, but he knew he had to do it. Gritting his teeth, he took in three deep breaths and lurched forward in the chair. Hot pain flared in his shoulder. Fresh tears pricked his eyes and a few spilled over onto his cheeks. His head throbbed and his whole body felt like death. But unless he wanted to die, he had to move this chair. He lurched forward a second time. Then a third.

"_Q? What on earth is going on?" _The earpiece came to life in his ear. Bond! He'd completely forgotten!

"Bond! Oh God it's good to hear your voice!" Panting, he shoved the chair for a fourth time and winced. The pain was getting worse and he was losing a lot of blood. He could feel his head becoming lighter. "Oh God it hurts so bad!" Q whispered.

"_I'm coming Q. just hold on. I'm almost there." _He sounded to calm, so self-assured. And it helped. He calmed down. Just a little. Enough to lurch forward one more time. He was right in front of the metal tray. His wrists were tied to the arms on the chair, and his ankles were tied to the legs. There was also a rope around his torso and elbows tying him to the back of the wooden chair. But he could still lean over a fair way. So that's what he did. He just barely made it too. His teeth only just clamping onto the hilt of the small silver knife. He tasted blood. His own blood. His stomach churned and heaved but he kept a hold of it. As he was straightening up, he transferred the knife from his mouth to his right hand. The blade cut deep into his skin. He didn't mind. He manoeuvred it so that the bade slid under the rope. His heart began to beat faster. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. He began to cut the rope.

Hamilton could walk back in through that door any second now. He worked faster. Fortunately, the blade was sharp, so the rope gave away easily. His hand was free. The feeling of pure elation and joy bloomed in his chest as he frantically cut away the four other ropes tying him down. His shoulder was aching, his head throbbed and his wrists and ankles were rubbed raw by the rope but he was alive. And he intended to keep it that way. The only problem was how. Holding his shoulder with his left hand, he closed his eyes. Something didn't add up with the door. When he had entered, he remembered being walked across the room and seated in the chair all facing the same way. If Q had entered through the door Hamilton had just exited through then he would have needed to turn around in order to sit in the chair. Which meant that… Q jolted into action. He bolted for the back of the room. It was shrouded in gloomy shadow so his eyes couldn't pick out much. He used his hands to feel along the wall. He felt cool hard bricks made slippery from the water and- Ah ha! He'd found it. The door. It was small and wooden painted the same colour as the bricks. He tried the knob. The door was unlocked.


	6. Chapter 6

Bond crouched low. His head was just under the lowest window of the mansion. Raising himself up ever so slightly, he risked a look into the room beyond. An ordinary, plush living room stared back at him. _Good,_ he thought, _a nice and easy entrance_. Bond silently cursed his thoughts as two armed men strode into the room followed by a rather amused looking Hamilton. He quickly ducked down out of sight just as another two men entered into the room. Only these men were from MI-6.

"You are hilariously out manned and out gunned here. I wouldn't be bargaining for too many things if I were you." Bond could only just make out Sebastian's voice through the window but he's managed to catch what he'd said. There was a long pause before one of the MI-6 agents spoke up.

"State what you want from us."

Bond risked another quick look through the window. Hamilton was seated to the right in a comfortable arm chair which he now stood from. Pacing the room, his lips formed into a wicked grin.

"I will tell you where the exchange is happening. I will tell you who the deal is with, hell, I'll tell you everything…"

"…for?"

"For protection."

Bond knew the shock he felt was mirrored equally in the agents in the room. They waited patiently for Hamilton to continue, he didn't disappoint.

"The...person I am dealing with is a very dangerous one to say the least. My men matched to theirs... well I'm only going to say it wouldn't be a fair fight. But if I had MI-6 on my side. We'd be even. So here's how it's going to pan out. We will make the transaction, I get my money. I part ways with my business partner. Next, you protect me against anyone wanting to take my money away from me _and _you team up with my men to go and snatch your little blueprints back. I get my money, you get your blueprints _and _your buyer. It's a win win situation."

_What about Q?_

Bond's heart sped up in anticipation. He waited for the agents to accept the offer with Q thrown in there somewhere.

"What about our quartermaster?"

007 leaned in closer to the wall to try and make out more of what they were saying. What followed chilled his blood.

"The quartermaster is my…play thing now. He's not part of the bargain. So is it a deal?"

Time seemed to slow down for Bond. They would say yes. He knew it because only a few months ago, he would've agreed in a heartbeat too. One life for millions? It was a done deal. Only now, now he hated to admit but the quartermaster had become a sort of friend for Bond. No, he'd become something else entirely. And Bond would be damned if he left him with this sadistic bastard to become a…_play thing_. Pushing away from the wall and darting as quietly as possible down the side path of the house, Bond set out for his quartermaster.

"Q? Q are you there?" He stopped dead when he heard the static reply. "Q!" Bond curled his hands into tight fists. Damn it! Without their radio contact, Q could be anywhere. And Bond only hoped he could get to him in time.

…

The corridor he entered into was dark and gloomy. The wood that supported the roof and the walls was moulding and gave off a slightly musky odour. He remembered it from when he was being walked to the underground cellar. However, he had been blindfolded and gagged on the way down so finding his way back up again was slightly more difficult. The muscles in Q's good arm ached from holding on so tightly to his bleeding out shoulder. Somehow and somewhere, Q had lost his earpiece.

He silently berated himself for being so careless and focused on where he was headed. Somewhere in the distance, he saw a thin strip of yellow light plastered to the floor. He tried to scramble forward as silently and as quickly as possible to get a closer look as to where the light came from. The source of the light was coming from the bottom of a thick metal door at the end of the corridor. Wincing from the pain, he lowered himself down to look through the thin opening. He could just make out the setting of a comfortable, yet very expensive, living area. He jerked back in surprise when numerous sets of feet shuffled right in front of his eyes. He could see half way up their calves when three of the men sat down and he recognised one voice when he began to speak.

"You are hilariously out manned and out gunned here. I wouldn't be bargaining for too many things if I were you." Hamilton's voice was slightly amused and dripped with ego and overconfidence.

He became acutely aware that the gunfire and any sounds of fighting had stopped, leaving an eerie peace in its wake. Q tuned back into the conversation when they resumed talk. With every sentence, Q could feel his chances of survival slip completely out of reach. They were going to leave him there. Anger mixed with the sting of betrayal surged up within him. He understood completely why they had agreed, but it didn't make the pain hurt any less. Mixed with the physical pain of his shoulder, Q felt himself grow dizzy and light headed. His vision began to blotch with red.

_Play thing_

He would be no one's play thing.

With the final scraps of energy he still possessed, he focused is all on heaving the metal door backwards. The wound in his shoulder screamed at him to stop. His head began to throb uncontrollably until he thought he would pass out. But just at that final moment, the door popped free. The gap it opened up was barely big enough to fit through, but Q's small frame allowed him to just scrape through. He knew he was being irrational, be he'd rather die than be used as a punching bag. The small room Sebastian Hamilton had just been occupying was vacant when Q stumbled into the hallway.

His muscles froze up at the thought of being so exposed. Makin a split second decision, he bolted left and through two double doors that lead into a spotless kitchen. It was as if he had been transported into a top-quality restaurant the moment he crossed the threshold. He didn't dwell on the thought for long though. Moving as quickly as possible, Q scoured the counter tops and various cupboards until cool steel was sitting nicely in his palm. The knives were sharpened impeccably and the weight was just right. He sent a quick mental thank you to Bond for the lessons. He only hoped Bond remembered the lessons Q had given him. He thanked the heavens for the fact his shoes were soft and noiseless as he treaded carefully toward another door on the opposite side of the Kitchen. His knives at the ready, he neared the door slowly; straining his hearing for anything unusual. The silence was almost deafening. No gun fire, no shouts, not explosions. There was no need for that now, after all, a deal had been made.

Q sucked in an uneasy breath. If there had been a gun fight going on it would have been a whole lot easier for Q to slip out undetected. But now…

He jerked back into reality when the door he was now facing swung open and a rather pissed off group of 'thugs' marched in. Time slowed to a crawl. Q's breath caught in his throat; his muscles frozen. He felt as if someone had dropped him into a tank of water and frozen him solid in the space of a few seconds.

The only thing that got him moving again was the sound of the first guard cocking his rifle. Q snapped into action. With a sharp jerk of his arm, he sent the first knife hurtling into the guards chest. He had the exact number of knives to match the remaining guards. Three. He couldn't miss.

Explosions of glass dropped him to his knees heavily. His body thundered against the ground painfully. The pounding in his head returned. Limply, he crawled toward a huge food carrier that slid easily along on four small black wheels. The gunfire stopped abruptly causing Q's progress to halt. Any movement now would give him away. Fortunately, that was the same for the other three guards. Their heavy army boots crunched on the broken glass that now littered the floor.

With no spare seconds to over think what he was doing, Q jumped up and hurled the knife to his left. With a satisfying _thunk_, it hit home. Two down, two to go. Just as Q ducked behind the silver food carrier, the gunfire ripped through the silence once more. They were advancing on him, they knew where he was, they would put a bullet in his brain. Q moved. Spurred on by the singular thought of not giving these guys a chance to re-decorate with the inside of his head. He slipped silently down an isle flanked by ovens and cooktops. The only thing was, through his panic and desire to flee, he had backed himself into a dead end.

The two guards rounded on the food carrier. Q used their momentary confusion to his advantage. He buried his knife deep into the abdomen of the closest guard and was about to do the same for the last one when he was violently thrown against the wall. Pain erupted from his stomach causing dark spots to dance across his vision. He dropped his last knife. Everything spun through a vision obstructed by hot tears. He felt like his lungs were about to give out; his head would explode. It took him a moment but he realised what had happened. He'd been shot.

And now, he was about to die.


End file.
